You expect a convent to radiate a settled grace, a calmness that suggests there are aspects of our world that outlast trends and hard times.

You do not expect such a convent to be tucked on a hilltop inside a block of southeast San Francisco, surrounded by houses and institutional buildings with two asphalt-covered reservoirs close by.

But that is exactly what stands shrouded by cypress trees on obscure University Mound, the ranch-house home of the Convent of the Good Shepherd. This outpost of an institutional order found in 72 countries has been here since 1932, and it is a reminder that the city's diversity is more nuanced than the sloganeering of politicians and interest groups would suggest.

"When I came here three years ago, I was struck by how cosmopolitan the city is," said Sister Barbara Beasley, community leader for the seven sisters who share meals and prayers under a dark pitched roof. "If I didn't know what country I was in, I couldn't tell by the faces, couldn't tell by the languages. And it works. It's good."

The convent has deep roots on University Mound, a broad gentle rise to the west of Highway 101 and San Bruno Avenue in the Portola district.

The order built the Spanish-flavored school complex that lines one edge of the block. It arrived the same year that the mock-Georgian University Mound Ladies Home opened along the other.

When the convent arrived, this was Italian-American terrain with a horticultural side. As late as 1958, The Chronicle reported that "University Mound is noted for hothouses and nursery gardens on its slopes. The district specializes in the cultivation of orchids, carnations and roses."

Today, the lone block of greenhouses that remains along Hamilton Street is a wreck of broken glass and sagging frames. As for demographics, the 2010 census found that roughly three-quarters of the neighbors are of Asian or Hispanic descent.

The property owned by the convent, though, remains an enclave where the Sisters of Good Shepherd provide services and support to women in need.

Recovery residence

Until the 1970s, they operated the building to the west as a school for what then were called delinquent girls. When the state of California stopped providing funds to operate such programs, the convent narrowed the focus of its work.

It sold the educational complex to an evangelical school and began offering shelter for homeless women in a small house from 1961 that formerly served graduates of the girls school.

That northern building now operates as Good Shepherd Gracenter, a licensed recovery residence for up to 13 women who already have gone through primary drug and alcohol treatment.

The women can live there for six months to two years. There's a home-cooked meal five nights a week, access to 12-step counseling and individual training in such areas as holding a job, managing personal finances and rebuilding frayed relationships.

"It's not just staying clean and sober. You have to have a balanced life," said Sister Marguerite Bartling, the executive director of Gracenter. "Women historically are underserved, particularly low-income women. Here they are part of a community that supports each other. ... Our enclave is very peaceful, and we're hoping to offer that to women who often have come from chaos."

No distinct changes

Bartling entered the order after high school in Southern California and has since lived in convents in locales that include St. Louis, Las Vegas and Chicago.

Before coming in 2009 to lead Gracenter's transition to a recovery residence, she also was assigned to the convent in the early 1990s.

In some parts of San Francisco, the passage of a generation means distinct physical change, new towers or residential blocks. Not here.

"The only real change I see is along San Bruno Avenue," Bartling said. "Then it was more Hispanic and Italian. Now I see Chinese acupuncturists and herbal vendors, chickens hanging in the window, they weren't there before."

Bartling lives and works on University Mound. Other sisters walk five minutes downhill to the bus stop each day and depart to serve in other ways, other worlds. One volunteers full time at Laguna Honda Hospital, another at a Tenderloin homeless center.

"What I love about the city is the extreme diversity," said Bartling. As for traditional religious orders being part of that diversity, "people are brought up short sometimes," she admitted with a laugh. "They don't always realize there's still this presence."

About the series

The Chronicle is retracing the steps of its 1958 "Hills of San Francisco" series - one hill at a time. Each Wednesday, Chronicle Urban Design Critic John King explores what individual hills reveal about today's city. Find more images, an interactive map and prior installments in the Urban Landscapes blog at www.sfgate.com.